Rooftop Memories
by silentlullabye
Summary: They tried to make it work. And failed. Now they meet years later on a rooftop, with nothing but memories and could-have-beens. A/A


Rooftop Memories

An Inception Fanfic.

* * *

He was tall, with dark hair and brooding eyes. His hands sunk deep into the pockets of his trench coat, and he stood with perfect posture.

She was not nearly so tall, with long brown hair. Her brown eyes shone across the rooftop like cat eyes in the dark. She too wore a trench, but clasped her gloved hands together in front of her.

The city lights surrounded this strange duo as they stood on the roof of the Van Gloria Hotel. From this angle, they could have been in any major city on earth. Advertisements fought for space with posters and windows. A cacophony of car horns, chatter, and the movement of great masses of people danced in the air, accompanied by a rainbow of colored lights.

This pair did not need to speak. The history between them spoke volumes across the empty roof. They didn't even need to exchange furtive glances, but they did anyways; if only to see how the other had changed. Was he losing his hair? Was she losing the battle with grays or the wrinkles around her eyes? But of course, not nearly enough time had passed for them to grow that old yet. Maybe only ten years. However the mind still questions.

The temperature is about right for mid-November: frigid and bone-chilling. She shivers, and then looks quickly to make sure he didn't see. He is busy gazing at the city around them. She peers over the edge warily, noting the thirty or so stories to the ground. Then she adjusts her scarf to better cover her neck.

He arrived first, or course. He had always been first. That had been one of the problems. His every whim had come first, but so had hers. They were both too stubborn to have lasted, too stubborn, really, to have been together at all. Looking back, she realized how right they had all been to laugh at them when they declared they would be together forever. What a foolish sentiment. His cynical heart was wiser now to what was really important in life, and the cliché of a love story was not. Her cynical heart agreed.

It had been difficult toward the end to remember any happy time they had shared. Standing now on the roof, the memories came back, both the good and bad, with every moment of silence.

His hair still didn't grow properly over the ear where she had attempted a haircut. He hadn't let her get to the other side of his head to finish the job. As if sensing her staring he subconsciously rubbed the spot with a leather-gloved hand. He could still feel her fingers and the scissors. She smiled, remembering the five strands of hair she had lost when he pulled them out in retaliation.

Her head stung at the thought.

He was wearing the jeans she had bought him on their first anniversary, she could tell because the hemline was missing and strings grazed the filthy rooftop. They were the only pair of jeans he had ever worn. She noted the paint stain on the left knee that would never come off. Springtime green, the only color they could agree on for their tiny kitchen.

It didn't matter how many memories they shared on the rooftop. The past was the past and they did not intend to be a part of the other's future. Reminiscing only brought back the old pain, the bad times. He flinched when the memory of her face surfaced, screaming at him as she packed. Her face streaked with tears. She closed her eyes, remembering the look on his face as she rode away from him in the taxi. He had run along beside her for five minutes before finally stopping.

Quietly she approached him, her heels click-clacking on the cement.

"You know I hate those heels," he said, not turning.

She smiled. "I know." They were indeed hideous, bought on a dare from a flea market on their fifth date.

She still smelled the same, he noted. Soap and jasmine perfume. He used to keep her pillowcase on his nightstand after she left, so that he could smell her next to him every night.

"Why do you still have those jeans?"

He grinned, hot air misting as he exhaled. The truth was he couldn't bear to part with them. He left her question to hang in the silence around them. A car alarm blared from below.

After all this time, there wasn't much to say other than question small uncertainties that differed from before.

"Eames told me you pawned your ring." She gazed at him, not with anger, but in passing, with a calmness that time had allowed to form. He fidgeted slightly.

"I did. I needed rent money."

"You kept the apartment?" She was a little shocked. The memories buried in those walls whispered to her in her dreams, she couldn't imagine returning. But once her taxi had turned the corner, he had gone back. He repainted the kitchen, sold most of the furniture, changed the curtains, and bought a bigger TV.

"Yeah." He fingered his wedding ring in his pocket. He had almost sold his soul in order to keep it, thus the selling of the furniture. But there was no way she still had hers and he didn't want to seem as though he cared. That he wished things were the way they were then. That he regretted every harsh thing he had ever said to her or about her. But he didn't open his mouth to say those things.

She felt the weight of her wedding ring hanging on a chain around her neck, hidden underneath her layers. There was no reason for him to know she still had it. Not if he had sold his.

"I had a dream about you the other night." He turned at her words. She could not read his eyes.

"It was the same one I used to have."

"Nightmares"

"No. It was a good dream."

An image flashed in his mind of her screaming awake next to him, sweating, heart pounding. "You used to call it a nightmare."

She pondered this for a moment. "Well times are different now. Maybe I've gained some perspective." She moved closer, so that she was standing at his side, close to the edge.

"Perspective?"

"Mmhm. I'm not living in a dream world anymore."

"Good to know." They both shivered as the wind blew past.

"It isn't really the same now."

"I'm not there to comfort you. Of course it's different."

She glared at him. "That isn't what I meant." She sighed loudly. "I meant we aren't trying to fool ourselves anymore. The rose-colored glasses are off. Maybe now I can dream again."

"You always were too complicating."

She looked up at him and met his eyes. He was smiling. Regardless of whether he understood her logic, he still understood her.

"Was it the exact same dream?"

"Yes. You and I, standing on a rooftop. And then we jump." She peeked once more over the edge. It was a long way down.

"Well here we are."

"Yeah."

"I kept my promise."

"I know."

He held out one gloved hand. She took it.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

They held a mutual breath - and jumped.

On the way down, she felt his arms wrap around her in a loving embrace. And she embraced back.

**.**

And then she woke up. She checked the bed beside her. Empty. She sighed deeply. Oh well.

After all, what was life but a dream?

* * *

A/N: So this was a short story I wrote several years back. I pulled it out again the other day, and noticed it could make a good Arthur/Ariadne story. So I made some adjustments. The scary thing is that the whole jumping off the roof together thing is completely coincidental with Mal jumping out the window. I wrote this before the movie even came out!

I scare myself sometimes.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy and please let me know if you did!

And if you are a fan of Arthur/Eames, please check out my other Inception story called _Triptych: A Life in Ten Acts_.

**Disclaimer: Inception is the property of Christopher Nolan.**


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